


The Start of Something...

by swaneewhistleandkazoo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Academy Era Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, Episode: s06e06 Inescapable, F/M, Friendship, Happy Ending, Leo Fitz-centric, Light Angst, POV Leo Fitz, Pre-Relationship, Some Humor, Some Plot, flashback kinda, how they became friends, oblivious to feelings, tentative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaneewhistleandkazoo/pseuds/swaneewhistleandkazoo
Summary: Academy Era. Fitz has finally thought of something smart enough to say to Simmons.Or the start of Fitzsimmons as inspired by Season 6 episode 6- Inescapable.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	The Start of Something...

_(In the future when he looks back on this memory, trapped in a Chromicon mind prison and in lazy moments with Jemma curled up beside him on the sofa. It fills him with the greatest joy that this was the moment that their friendship geminated and eventually after a very long, painful road full of unexpected hurdles and challenges bloomed into their eventual marriage._

_Both of their marriages. He can’t help but be envious of his alternate self for marrying Jemma first and absolutely infuriated at alternate Fitz having the stupidity of getting himself killed and putting Jemma through that hell._

_However this memory also makes him cringe at how blind he was, they both were really, both of them locking their feelings away in a little box for years and not having the courage to spit out how much they loved each other. The only excuse he can give himself is that he was a teenager…and as a teenager he was pretty ignorant when it came to women._

_Still he’s beyond grateful that despite everything, all of the pain, the repeated crossings of space and time, the near and actual death experiences..._

_That this first interaction laid the groundwork to something truly special.)_

Simmons’s isn’t coming.

At half past eight he’d laid out all of his papers and blue prints meticulously on his bed to make sure everything was in order for them to complete their chem project as quickly as possible and therefore reduce to the time he had to make a fool of himself in front of her and limit the awkwardness that always hung in the air between them.

At seventeen minutes to nine he’d been in a panic making sure all his boxers where safely stashed away in the washing basket and then hiding the washing basket in his closet. He didn’t want the smartest girl he’s ever met to literally see all his dirty laundry.

At three minutes to nine he’d caught himself compulsively running his hand though his hair trying to get it to lie flat.

Why on earth is he trying to look nice for Simmons?

At 30 seconds to nine he performed a truly impressive dive across the room and on his hands and knees scrabbled to scope up a sock of unknown cleanliness that has somehow escaped his tidy up. He didn’t recognise it as one his Mum had brought it so the socks were probably breeding in the depths of the washing machine.

On the dot of nine o’clock he’d plonked himself down in his desk chair and attempted to look casual, he’d fully expected her to be come it right on time, Simmons was punctual like that. In fact he was surprised that she hadn’t shown up when he was wrestling with the breeding socks.

Which would have made this even more excruciatingly embarrassing than it already was.

He doesn’t like it here at the Academy very much. Yes the labs were cool and the lectures were interesting and from the moment he’d gotten here his brain hadn’t stopped churning out idea after idea which he could now develop because the Academy had far better resources that his postgraduate program could have done. But he’d just a teenager and cripplingly shy and everyone else here is so much older than him so there are no easy ways to relate to people.

And the one person he could relate too? He’s so excruciatingly uncomfortable in her presence that he can’t even talk to her. When they’d been paired up for a chem project he’d been hopeful that that would change, now that he’d thought up something smart enough to not sound like a fool in front of her cause she’s such a genius.

But it hadn’t.

At six minutes past nine he tried to sooth his nerves by telling himself she was just late, maybe gotten lost or talking to one of the professors that regularly waylaid both himself and Simmons to discuss i.e bribe them into coming to their classes. He’s gotten pretty good at avoiding them, there are advantages to being smaller and skinnier that everyone else around him. Ducking out of sight so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. But then Simmons probably ambushed them in return wanting extra homework or something. A snort of amusement escaped him at the thought of Simmons rigging elaborate booby traps to ensnare wild professors and shaking them down for tougher school work.

Is it sad that his mind is already spinning up ideas of man sized traps to assist Simmons on her professor poaching?

Eleven minutes past nine he’s managed to convinced himself Simmons had obviously been kidnapped by Hydra or by Frat boys because Simmons was never late and she would have texted him if she was going to be late. She’s too nice to abandon him without a polite excuse and had his phone in his hand to ring campus security to report her missing but his anxiety is too much for him to thumb the call button.

Nineteen minutes past nine he realised that Simmons had stood him up. Of course she isn’t coming, he’s barely been able to string two sentences together to her for the entire time they’ve known each other. Dejectedly he slumped back in his chair and fought the urge to call his mum.

Simmons casually wandering into his room a few minutes after he’s given up on her and himself, wallowing in teenage misery of how lonely he is and how he’s going to fail the project cos his brain is so disorganised he can’t focus, makes him rocket to his feet almost dropping the textbook he was half-heartedly reading. She looks so… lovely in that green blouse and cardigan with her pretty brown hair tied up like that.

“You’re late” Are the first accusatory words out of his dumbfounded mouth and he internally kicks himself because a. he sounds like an absolute Pillock and b. That he doesn’t want her there which he does, he really really does.

Simmons brows creased into an aggravated look. “Oh. Good to see you too.” She snapped sharply at him and he cringed wishing he could rewind time. She spins around, ponytail whipping the air to close his door and immediately his room feels smaller and more airless.

Luckily he remembers before he panics and embarrasses himself further both his manners and that he’s not the one that’s late and therefore is the aggrieved party here “Yeah, no, s-sorry. It's just 'cause you said you were gonna come at 9:00, and um…” He fumbles with his sleeve, the fabric feels unusually slippery and it takes several goes to pinch it between forefinger and thumb and pull it back just enough so he could see his watch. “…It's 9:24, and so I thought you blew me off.”

“No.” Simmons said casually, as she examined his textbooks, mostly engineering manuals and few chemistry and physics textbooks thrown into the mix as well as a solitary biology book he’d picked up, on his self on the opposite wall. “I ran into Professor Weaver on the quad. She trapped me in a good conversation.”

“Oh. Yeah, she does...she can...” Honestly Professor Weaver is one of the worse professors to run into, very longwinded. No wonder Simmons was late. He fumbled with one of his folders he’d forgotten to pick up when he was tidying his room as he’d been so focused on picking up his dirty washing. Focusing on picking up his work stuff stopped him from focusing on how badly he’s screwing up with her. “Well, she does that.” The papers on his bed look really messy as well so he starts scoping them up as well. “Um...Sorry.- Just...Place is a bit of a mess.”

“Is it?” Simmons sound genuinely surprised as she padded over to him and he retreats a few steps back. “You should see my room.”

“Okay” His response to take he up on her offer is immediate and probably making it obvious of his little crush on her. For half a second his mind zooms of imagining circumstances where he gets to see Simmons room. Some of those scenarios are decidedly not of a PG rating and are wholly inappropriate to be imagining with someone he can barely string two sentences together with. His mother raised him to be a gentleman rather than be his complete wanker of a father.

For a moment they just stare at each other in a state of supreme awkwardness, so he backtracks immediately, attempting to shrug carelessly and appear nonchalant, which he doubtless failed completely at “I mean, yeah, whenever. If that happens. I don't care.” 

But he does care, very much.

Taking a deep breath and running his hand soothingly down his hoodie, the thick fabric providing a physical distraction and allowed him to centre himself. Thankfully his brain uses the temporary calm and finally kicks in to rescue him from his ineptitude and prompts him to return to a safe topic like work and to remember his manners. “Thanks for...” The words get caught in his throat “…Thanks for coming over.” He manages to stammer out.

“Yeah, you wanted my help with a problem?” Simmons unslung her rucksack and dropped in to his bed.

”Uh, yeah, sort of. Well, I mean, I don't really need your help.- I can solve it by myself.” He’s babbling trying to make himself sound smarter. “Just...In lab, you seem like a good sounding board.”

“Sounding board?” Simmons made a little huffing sound like he’s offended her, though he has no idea what.

“Yeah.” He tries to clarify, what he means by inadequately gesturing between them. “Just means to bounce ideas off.” From the expression on her face he knows immediately that he has offended her.

“So, I'm good at reflecting your ideas back at you.” Simmons accused him tersely, eyes flinty, tilting her head challengingly at him as if daring him to argue with her “Like a wall...Like a thick wall.”

“Ohh. No, no.” He back tracked immediately, trying to come up with a better way of phrasing how he needed her help without it making it sound like he’s a sexist tosser. “What I mean is you're good at clarifying which ideas are, uh, heading in the right direction and mapping consequential results.”

Yes, that sounds complimentary... clumsy but nice none the less. 

She studied him for a long moment before seemingly taking pity on him “For an organized person.” She stated matter of factly as she slung her rucksack on the floor “Your thoughts are a bloody mess.”

“Yeah, um...I-I-I think...I think I need some help clearing them up.” He so tired, physically and mentally because; his thoughts never stop racing, that he hasn’t been able to sleep well since he got to the academy and so emotionally tired because he has no one, has never has someone to talk to. His mum’s great but she doesn’t really get him, his Dad buggered off to who knows where and he’s never really had friends. That’s all he wants desperately, someone to talk through his ideas with, to share things with and just talk to in general.

“ I just...I haven't slept.” He collapsed back in his chair kneading his gritty tired eyes; it’s a weight off him just to share that tiniest snippet of how he feels with someone.

At the time he doesn’t see the slight curve that lifts up the corner of her lips but he does hear the sudden warmth and kindness in her voice when she asks him “And what problem are we solving tonight?”

For a moment all he can do is stare at her opened mouthed, her attention a benediction he’s longed for so long. Before launching into an outline of his idea for the project and the problems he just can’t solve. And she listens to him and instead of her eyes glazing over within boredom or looking at him like he’s speaking in tongues something in those pretty hazel eyes narrow and sharpen as an her minds starts churning seemingly in tandem with his.

It’s beautiful. He could look at her thinking forever.

“Well?” He says breathlessly as he concludes his word vomit of an explanation and frantically waits to hear what she’s thinking. “What do you think?”

For a long moment she doesn’t say anything just continues to think things over before. “I think..” she says before launching into an explanation of her solution, its ingenious her solution, so elegant it sound like it was made to be part of his project.

Excitedly they spent hours discuss the project, bouncing more and more ideas off each other, growing and changing the project from something excellent into something extraordinary, something ground-breaking.

It’s exhilarating.

They’re so pumped up with the ideas that they immediately start using his work bench to create the first prototype. She’s the best partner he’s ever worked with, they never bump into each other, never get in each other’s way but work effortlessly in tandem.

It feels like it’s both forever and only a few minutes before their project is sitting finished on his workbench, so perfect, astonishing, ground breaking with its new machine smell making him feel incredibly proud and joyful. Maybe this is what it’s like to hold a new born baby?

“It’s beautiful” Simmons gently petted it with the barest tips of her fingers.

“It’s is” He agreed reverently and they smiled at each other for a long moment before they both realise their staring at each other and awkwardly try to find other things to stare at. Clumsily he fixes his gaze on the pommel of his bedpost, yes that seems to be as safest place to look at.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Simmons glanced at her watch and her expression dropped in dismay. “It’s getting really late.” She muttered and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she looked disappointed.

_It can’t be that late_ he thinks anxiously as he fumbles to look at his watch. _Surely they’ve only been working on their project and hour or two tops._ He’s doesn’t want their time together to end they have so many more ideas to explore together.

It’s quarter to two in the morning! He can feel his jaw drop in astonishment; time really does fly when you’re having fun. “I…I didn’t realise it was so late” He stammered at her.

Simmons smiled ruefully at him. “I’d better be getting home” She hoisted her rucksack up and shrugged one strap onto one shoulder before turning back to him “We have an early class in the morning”

He hates to watch her leave.

“Let me walk you home?” The words have escaped his mouth faster than his brain works “There might be bears or mountain lions or racoons or….” He’s stumped for a moment trying desperately not to put his foot in it again “…or professors lying in ambush.”

She gives him a long unreadable look “I’m a big girl Fitz.” She told him sternly “I can take care of myself.”

He’s sure she can but…

“Please…” He stammered, he can’t tell her it worries him the thought of her walking alone especially after growing up in a very bad area of Glasgow. Not that he could do very much to protect her, he’s about as co-ordinated as Bambi on ice. “I just…I…” he felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “My mum would skin me alive if she ever found out.”

“Alright.” Simmons relented, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “But only to keep your Mum from skinning you. You wouldn’t look quite so good with your epidermis removed.” She flushes slightly pink staining her cheeks pleasantly and chews her lower lip uneasily as if she’s said more than she meant to.

Fortunately or maybe unfortunately he doesn’t notice Simmons terrible attempt at complimenting his looks because he’s too busy scrabbling to find his room key and the weird little fob that lets him enter his dorm building.

It’s cool out as they trudge across campus towards Simmons’s dorm building, even for a native born Glaswegian but his Yorkshire raised friend shivers with the cold.

“You alright?” he asked her worriedly as he caught sight of the skin on the back of her hand and its slowly turning a blotchy purple colour.

“Yeah” She muttered, tucking her hands more firmly in her pockets and he can see her suppress another shiver “Bad circulation, my hands get like little ice cubes.” She says by way of explanation.

“Here” he shrugged off his big blue hoodie and held it out to her without another word. And immediately regrets his chivalry as the cold bites into the fair skin of his arms, but she’s cold and he’s not going to put his comfort above hers. Beside they’re not far now and he can wear it back to his dorm, he can put up with being cold for a few minutes. 

“What about you?” She blurts out, hazel eyes wide “You’ll get so cold.”

“I’m from Glasgow, Simmons” He pulled himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. “This is positively barmy, nothin’ tae be greetin about.” 

She looks like she’s about to argue with him when a sudden ice cold gust of north wind knifes through them both, causing Goosebumps to rise up along his arms in a futile attempt to keep him warm and Simmons to snatch his hoodie from his fingers and pull it on.

Her little sigh of relief makes the slight discomfort of the cold he’s feeling feel insignificant.

“Thanks” She muttered.

They’ve reached her dorm and it makes him sad that he probably won’t be able to speak to her outside of class again. He doesn’t want her to go and she look as if reluctant she’s reluctant to go home as well. He chews the inside of his cheek leaning back against the wall of the dorm, unsure what to do. This isn’t a date so a quick peck on the cheek is out of the question but they’re not friends either so a hug goodbye isn’t the way to go. A handshake maybe but that feels a little impersonal because they’re not exactly not friends now either.

“Fitz” It takes a minute to realise that Simmons has been saying his name for a while. She shifted awkwardly “I noticed you had other projects in under development.”

Usually he hates it when other people look at his work but with her he finds he doesn’t mind so much.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t know what to say beyond that.

“I was wondering if maybe…” Simmons said in a rush. “If you wanted to work on them together. I mean if you don’t want my help that’s fine and I know some engineers don’t like to work with other people but I think we make a really good team together and we made it even better together so…”

“I do” he interrupts her. “I’d like to work with you again. I have so many ideas and I think…” He trails off unable to finish his sentence.

They smile cautiously at each, hesitantly embracing this new thing between them.

“I’ll …um…” He coughed slightly clearing his throat “I guess see you tomorrow.”

He’s never looked forward to class as much as he does now, finally he has someone to share with. It makes him feel a little giddy.

Simmons’s answering smile is radiant “I guess I will” And before he can react wraps him up in a hug. It’s a long hug nor a particularly tight one but he soaks up her affection like parched ground after a drought. He just barely remembers to clumsily wrap his arms around her shoulders she pulls away.

“Night” She tells him softly before turning to walk up the steps to her building.

“Night” He murmurs as he watches until she’s used her key fob to open the main door and it click gently behind her before turning to walk back across campus to his own dorm feeling lighter than he has in years.

It isn’t until he collapses happily back on his paper strewn bed that Simmons still has his hoodie and reassures himself that he’ll get it back of her tomorrow.

He never does.

And it’s the start of something….

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh I miss Fitz, I hope he shows up soon and Fitzsimmons have happy ending otherwise I will be writing a strongly worded letter to whoever is in charge. 
> 
> Anyway this has been knocking around my to do pile since well Inescapable aired anyway let this tide me over until I can't get more Fitzsimmons in Season 7. 
> 
> Your comments and Kudos are always deeply apricated.
> 
> Thanks for reading. :D 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
